


Good Enough

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Super Junior-M
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Choose one thing. I don’t care if you think you’re good at it or not. Choose it and let’s do it right now. I’ll show you you’re good enough. More than good enough.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazy_Dumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/gifts).



Sungmin doesn’t like being here. It’s obvious to everyone, but in true Super Junior—M or otherwise—fashion, they compensate for Sungmin’s silences. They laugh more to make up for the brittle almost-smiles. Hyukjae manages to look even more endearingly clueless when asked to ad-lib in Mandarin, playing up his ignorance so Sungmin can fade into the background. Donghae and Siwon talk more, talk loudly, showing off their own language skills. But it’s not about showing off. It’s so the hosts don’t question Sungmin, so the camera won’t linger on him.

When they get a moment of free time, Donghae replays the shows. He watches as Sungmin sits on the end of the sofa and holds the station mascot or a cushion or whatever else is at hand. He places it on his lap and makes himself look small around it. He hides right there in plain sight, not just uncomfortable but scared.

It’s the fright that undoes Donghae. The Sungmin he knows isn’t scared of anything. The Sungmin he knows can kick fear’s ass, trip it right over and throw it to the ground where it begs for mercy. But in China, in Hong Kong, in Taiwan, in SJM, Sungmin is silent and wary and afraid, and all the facets of his personality meld together and are suppressed.

“Is it the language thing?” Donghae asks. “‘Cos you’re still better than Hyukkie. Let’s face it, staying quiet gives you the advantage over that dumbass. That boy can get things wrong just trying to _think_ in Mandarin.”

“It’s not that.” Sungmin is curled up on the armchair that comes as standard in this type of hotel room. It’s by a desk made of some shiny dark wood with brass handles and scrolled legs. Presumably it’s meant to look antique, but Donghae reckons it’s younger than him by several years.

He pauses the replay of the TV show and glances at Sungmin. The drapes are heavy brocade, burgundy against muted gold. Donghae didn’t draw them all the way across. Through the sliver of net curtain he can see the wink and glimmer of city lights. In here, out there seems very far away, as remote as watching Sungmin not be himself on live television played back hours after broadcast.

“What is it, then?”

Sungmin sighs and straightens from his slouch. He stretches his legs out in front of him and stares down at his bare feet. “You know how Siwon likes M because it makes him feel free?”

Donghae nods. It’s hard to miss, really. Siwon outside of Korea is a completely different man. Sometimes they joke that SJM Siwon is a clone with a fun chip inserted. Siwon contrives to look sad and asks what if this is the real him and when he’s at home he’s a clone with the fun chip removed? Then Kyuhyun always says Siwon is a dick whether he’s a clone or not, and Ryeowook starts pondering on the nature of identity, and Henry declares that deep thoughts make him hungry even if he’s not actually having any deep thoughts of his own, and Zhou Mi tells them they’re all idiots and Siwon isn’t a clone, he’s just more of himself in M.

“Well,” Sungmin continues. “I don’t feel free. I feel... trapped.”

“Why?” Donghae didn’t mean for it to sound as interrogative as that.

Sungmin exhales. “Maybe it is the language thing.” He goes quiet again.

“It’s the one thing you’re not good at.” Donghae is fairly certain this is the problem. Maybe not so much of a problem, actually, but a... He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he knows this is it.

“I’m not good at a lot of things.” Sungmin flashes him an amused glance as if he knows what Donghae is thinking. Possibly he does. Those ninja senses and all that.

“You’re good at everything the company asks of us,” Donghae says. “I mean, you go above the call of duty with the acting cute bollocks. I wish you wouldn’t do that anymore. You’re really good at acting cute even though you aren’t. You’re not cute, Min. You’re gorgeous, but you’re not cute.”

Sungmin’s lips part as if he wants to argue, but he says nothing.

“Me,” Donghae says, “I can dance. I can hold a tune. I can act like a lovable asshole. I know I’m good enough. But you...”

“I know.” Sungmin’s voice is scarcely above a whisper. “I know. Jack of all trades and master of none.”

“You don’t need to be.” Donghae closes the website and gets up from the bed. “Choose one. Choose none of them. Be free like Siwon and start over. Just... don’t be scared, okay? ‘Cos whatever else you are, being scared is really not you.”

Now Sungmin smiles. “In your opinion.”

“Mine is the only opinion that counts. You do know that, right? I’m the man. Not Siwon or Mimi. I’m the cool one and that means I’m right and everyone else is wrong.”

“You’re such a dick.” Sungmin chuckles when he says it though, and he gives Donghae an affectionate, gleaming look.

“I’m serious.” Donghae paces across the room and comes to a halt in front of the armchair. “Choose one thing. I don’t care if you think you’re good at it or not. Choose it and let’s do it right now. I’ll show you you’re good enough. More than good enough.”

Sungmin looks up, indecision bright in his eyes, and then he holds out a hand. “Dance.”

Donghae smiles and curls his fingers around Sungmin’s outstretched hand. “C’mon, then. On your feet.”

“Which song shall we dance to?” Flicking back his hair, Sungmin gets up. He settles his weight, ready to break out any number of pre-packaged routines, and it makes Donghae think of their comments about Siwon and his clone.

“No music.” The words are out before Donghae has fully made up his mind. He knows it’s the right thing to do by the way Sungmin stares at him, eyes widening on a faint flare of panic before narrowing on determination.

“Come here.” Donghae puts one hand on Sungmin’s shoulder and the other on his waist.

“Dirty dancing?” Sungmin asks, a smile colouring his voice.

“I was thinking more like ballroom dancing. That’s, like, proper.” Donghae takes a step back, pulling Sungmin with him. “One, two, three; one, two, three. A waltz, right?”

“I’m not sure this is a waltz.” Sungmin is laughing now. He leans against Donghae and they move around the room, shuffle-gliding over the thick pile of the carpet. “I’m not sure what the hell this is.”

Neither of them is leading, which means they get stuck in one place and start to spin. Slow at first, and then they take a fresh grip on each other and cross their arms, hold hands, lean backwards and spin faster.

Donghae grins when Sungmin laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Like that. Laugh, Min. You’re really good at laughing.”

Sungmin smiles at him and everything seems to reverse, the room spinning while they stand still. Then Sungmin takes charge, hauling Donghae in close to him. They snap to attention, spines straight, heads up, and there’s fire in Sungmin’s eyes, his lush mouth pinched into a line. He turns his head, one hand on Donghae’s back, the other holding Donghae’s left hand in a bruising grip. He leads, movements sharp and staccato, and they whiplash around the floor, faster, faster.

Donghae follows. They press closer. He thinks they’re dancing a tango, an Argentine tango, full of angry passion and taut sensuality. Sungmin stops; they both look away, opposites working as one, then they move smoothly into the next passage of steps. It’s as if they’ve done this before, bodies responding to the choreography of desire, and Donghae breaks pose to bring his head close.

Sungmin smells warm and sweet, hotel shower gel and skin and happiness. His hair tumbles, brushing Donghae’s face. Donghae catches at it with his mouth, not quite a kiss, not quite a love-bite. Sungmin’s hair slides between his lips and pulls free as he turns his head sharply again, as he halts their steps to turn about.

Donghae admires the curve of Sungmin’s neck, the pale skin and the frantic flutter of his pulse. He lets momentum take him, tucks his face against Sungmin’s neck and kisses that enticing expanse of flesh.

Sungmin gasps. Wavers. Heat burns between them.

Donghae takes the lead. He sends Sungmin into a spin.

Breathless and laughing, Sungmin stumbles out of his whirl and falls across the bed. He lies there, eyes narrowing again, and then he grins.

“Hae,” he says. “Come and show me something else I’m good at.”


End file.
